


Best enemies.

by NikolayArlovskiy



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Love/Hate, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikolayArlovskiy/pseuds/NikolayArlovskiy
Summary: Their purpose is war, their destiny is to meet in battle. Blood, cruelty, and anger cannot live with cold reason, wisdom, and honor.But what if they had been enemies for too long?
Relationships: Ares/Athena (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Best enemies.

**Author's Note:**

> Experiment. If you find mistakes, please do not beat me for my mistakes. :)

Another war, and it is impossible to say exactly what kind of skirmish with the participation of the celestials. They are on opposite sides of the barricades, as if they are facing each other for the first time. But when was their first time? For the gods, centuries are but a few drops in the mighty stream of time. Pitiful years of truce, when even mortals tire of shedding each other's blood, only give them time to heal their wounds and prepare for another battle.

Her figure radiates light, the polished copper of her armor shines in the sun, the wind ruffles the feathers on the crest of her helmet, ruffles the folds of her cloak behind her straight back. Pallas Athena, goddess of just war. Wisdom will permeate the look of her gray eyes, not a single emotion in the correct features. The mind does not need feelings, because they cloud it.

And on the contrary-it is against the background of a bloody sky and smoky clouds. Broad shoulders, bulging muscles, and a terrifying glint in his wild eyes. A suit of armor that had been slashed by hundreds of blows, the point of a sword pointed forward with predatory intent. Ares, the cruel warrior God. The thirst for battle — what kind of mind can we talk about? The mind is nothing in the midst of a bloody battle, a maelstrom of death and suffering.

Life and death are so similar, but you can't confuse one with the other, no matter how hard you try. Fate played a cruel trick when it created these two and gave them the same craft. Two halves of the same whole, Athena and Ares met too often for it not to become a habit, a necessity.

Ares hates Athena, as one might hate one who always prevails.

Athena despises Ares, as one might despise a madman whose life's purpose is mindless murder.

Once again, they face each other on the battlefield. Who is at war with whom is not important, at least for one of them. On the side of Ares-the strength, ferocity of his soldiers, their determination to fill the once blooming field with the blood of their enemies. But with Athena, wisdom, faith in the just cause of her people, and a willingness to die if necessary. They believe that the goddess will not leave them, no matter how hard it is, and therefore they are ready to trust her.

Below, the battle iron rings. With a crash, swords and spears hit shields, rebound or pierce through, and the flesh of mortals gives up with a squelch. The screams, the neighing of horses all mixed together. Battle music, unchanged for hundreds of years.

Ares always attacks first. He gives himself up to anger, because this is the only way he can once again raise the sword and direct it at the one whose gaze has always been cold for a hundred years. Whose steely eyes are more inviting than the eyes of the Fairest of goddesses, than the eyes of any mortal woman. They drive him crazy, make him feel weak, and even more so Ares hates their bold owner.

— You want to try again? You can't beat me today, Ares!

And a voice that wasn't female at all. A woman's voice, the voice of Aphrodite, murmurs in a stream on a hot day, like the song of birds. Ares recognizes this voice from a thousand. It is so unlike the voices of other goddesses or mortals. Athena's voice had echoed so many times in the ranks of warriors from all over the world. Like a brass Gong, almost like the thunder of the King of the Gods.

— Not this time, Pallas! You can't always celebrate victory!

Athena takes the blow of the sword on the shield. Habitually, over hundreds of years of hostility, she had learned the habits of her eternal opponent. Each new skirmish was more and more like a carefully rehearsed performance, one of those rituals where the gods are priests and the battlefield is their shared temple. Yes, she and Ares were made for war. But they were made of different clay, different threads were taken by the weaver-fate. Two such different beings could not come out of the hands of the same master.

But as she parried blow after blow, the goddess succumbed more and more to the irrational. Ares was a real monster, and his monstrosity attracted her like a protective goddess who should destroy his kind. She was the goddess of war, but there can be no war without an enemy. Athena both hated him and couldn't imagine living without Ares. Only the strength and ferocity of one like him made her the Pallas that men knew.

And because Athena every time, when won, left the life of her beloved enemy.

As a hundred times before, as a hundred times after, the battle was desperate. The gods fought fiercely over the heads of men. There was no room for weakness, half-assed blows, or concessions. Even when the last man below fell, Athena and Ares did not stop their merciless dance of death. Like lovers in the middle of a passionate night, they could not tear themselves away from each other until they were exhausted, until they broke their swords and spears.

— Look down, Ares, – Athena said, removing her scarred helmet and pointing at the piles of mangled bodies, — you are mad to let all your warriors die here.

— Then you are mad, Athena, – Ares chuckled, wiping the blood from his face, — and your people are dead. Glorious battle, Pallas!

The wind ruffled the goddess's fair hair, and the sun no longer played on her stained armor. But she did not lose, as she had never lost. They both knew it.

— Not the last, Ares. You don't know the world, so I will bring you down more than once.

Athena's spear had already left a long mark on the God's body. His powerful torso was almost completely covered with old scars. The gods can heal themselves, but Ares had fought too many powerful heroes and thought too little of beauty. He was supposed to be intimidating, and even now, wounded and exhausted in battle, he was terrifying. Every movement was the movement of a predator, a powerful beast that even Pallas could hardly take her eyes off. A monster that will never be defeated.

— I will look forward to our next meeting, Pallas. The battle doesn't taste right if you're not there!

They parted to meet again, because without meetings they could not exist. A God and Goddess whose Union was blessed by death. And only death could separate them.


End file.
